


Reverberations

by MidnightOilDiary



Category: Elder Scrolls
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Illustrations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23420446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightOilDiary/pseuds/MidnightOilDiary
Summary: Did you ever wonder what Tamriel would be like many centuries after the events in the Elder Scrolls games, in a time more or less contemporary to our own?  Then join our new hero Adrian, a mild-mannered Solitude shipping manager, as he navigates insomnia, office politics, and vivid, recurring dreams in the days leading up to the Nerevarine Festival!- Will Adrian beat out his smarmy rival for the big promotion?- Will he survive his boss's hearty backslaps?- Will he figure out what his dreams are telling him?Find out, inReverberations!
Comments: 2





	1. Insomnia

### It Helps to Talk

* * *

“It doesn’t happen every night, but many nights it does. Maybe three times a week, sometimes more, sometimes less. But even when the dreams don’t come, I’m always worried they will, so it’s still very hard to get to sleep.” From the easy chair, Adrian studied his therapist’s face. She was a real Nord woman, he thought. Her blonde hair was pulled back severely, but the large plastic frames of her eyeglasses softened her appearance. She was sitting in an office chair by her desk, nodding, as if she expected to hear more. She was like that, Adrian noticed. She could always sense there was more to tell. “But I don’t know if there’s anything more to say that I haven’t said before.”  
  
“Is it the same dream?” Doctor Gustafson asked. She held nothing in her hands. Adrian assumed that rather than taking notes, she was recording the whole session.  
  
“Almost exactly,” replied Adrian. “I’m in that boat again, rocking back and forth. The girl’s still there, and I still can’t see her face. And I’m still feeling like something’s really, really wrong in the dream, but I don’t know what. And then I wake up, depressed, worried, I don’t know.” Adrian found himself inspecting his fingers very closely, as if they held answers. They didn’t. “What do I have to do, Doctor? Should I be taking something? I’ve got to get past all this somehow.”  
  
Doctor Gustafson shook her head. “I don’t believe medication would be very helpful right now. You’re not sleeping because something is bothering you. Perhaps these dreams may have something to do with that.” She paused to gather her thoughts. “Is everything all right with your work? Do you think you’re performing well?”  
  
“As far as I know, they’re happy with me. The general manager hinted I might be up for promotion. As to whether I like my job? Well, it’s a job. It pays pretty well, but it’s often pretty dull.”  
  
“You’re still with SK International, right?”  
  
“SK Intercontinental,” corrected Adrian. “And yes, I’m still with them. I manage trans-oceanic shipping for this region. From the minute the cargo goes onto a ship at Solitude or Windhamn, to the minute it comes off at its destination, it’s my responsibility. Landship, rail, that’s somebody else’s job, but the oceans? That’s all on me.”  
  
“Any big changes coming up?”  
  
“Nothing huge, I don’t think,” said Adrian. “Our big company outing is in another week and a half. We’re supposed to pile onto a train, families and all, and ride down to Seyda Neen for the Neraverine Festival. Do you know what that is?”  
  
“Oh yes,” said Doctor Gustafson. “The Neraverine Festival. ‘Where the Magic Begins!’” The advert had played endlessly on all the radio stations for the last two months. “Are you looking forward to it?”  
  
“I guess I should be,” replied Adrian. “But the general manager is a big family man, and I live alone. He’s going to want us to ride all those tilty, whirly rides with our kids, and I don’t have any. He’ll want us devouring nix-hound stew, dancing, singing, and so forth. I don’t know if I have the stomach for that, especially if I’m stumbling around half-dead like I have been.”  
  
“You know,” said Doctor Gustafson, “you might enjoy yourself even so. And you should remember that even positive changes can be quite stressful. You could find yourself losing sleep over good things!” She opened a desk drawer and retrieved a memory card, which she handed to Adrian. “You still have to identify the issue somehow,” she said, “but this might help you in the short term.”  
  
Adrian read the label on the card. “Therapeutic Music Collection A” was all it said. “This will help me sleep?”  
  
“Put it in your sound system when you lie down. All you have to do is listen, let the melodies take you where they will. We’ve been using music to treat mild anxiety for a few years now. It’s not meant to cure, so to speak, anything, but it should help you relax.”  
  
“Thanks, Doctor. At this point, I’m about ready to try anything.” Adrian slid the card into his shirt pocket.  
  
“Then let me know how it went next week,” said Doctor Gustafson. She stood, and opened the door for him. The session was over.  
  
Outside, it was starting to get dark, but Adrian had to walk only a block to the tram stop, which was the same one he used for work. The early spring weather was actually somewhat refreshing, so he didn’t mind the short walk, or the brief wait for the tram. He was further pleased to see the regular tram driver – a striking woman with very dark hair, somewhere between blue and black, framing a dark, angular face. She smiled as he paid his fare and boarded. He smiled wearily back. If only he could shake the exhaustion.  
  
Later, at his little apartment east of Drakebro, Adrian pressed the “play” button on his sound system and got into bed. He had no idea whether “Therapeutic Music Collection A” would actually help him sleep, but he had to admit the music was pleasant and soothing. A lute and a harp seemed to call each other softly across the stereo channels. Somewhere in between them, he heard bells. A knot in his lower back loosened with a series of jolts as he began to relax.  
  
The lute began to pull him gently to the left, then the harp would pull him gradually back to the right again, as if he were floating on a raft. Adrian immediately tensed up. _I’m going to dream about that damned boat again. I know it!_ He wanted to turn the music off, but he couldn’t bring himself to reach the stop switch. In the end, he couldn’t fight it; he drifted off with the lute and the harp again.  
  
And back onto the boat.  
  
They sat facing each other in the shade below the gunwale, close to the bow. She was on the port side, the boy (if it really was Adrian) on the starboard. Aft of them were bales of cotton, rolls of cloth, and other cargo. The vessel appeared to be a canal boat, and though he couldn’t see them, Adrian was somehow aware of two men astern, polling the craft along. He found himself studying his hands; they belonged to someone much younger. His face felt almost devoid of stubble. _Whoever I am in this dream,_ Adrian thought, _must be fifteen or twenty years younger than I am in real life._  
  
But maybe someone older, more mature, would be better equipped to cope with the scene in front of him. He still couldn’t see the girl clearly. Her face was buried in her hands, her dark hair falling down her bare arms, her elbows on her knees. She was crying; despite her best efforts to hide them, he heard her sighs and saw her tears fall, heartbreak, dashed hope, spoiled plans. And somehow, Adrian knew it was all his fault. He wanted to hold her, but he feared she would bat his arms away. He wanted to say something, but the words weren’t there. All he could manage was her name.  
  
“Larisa?”  
  
“Larisa!”  
  
_What have I done?_

### Office Politics

* * *

When Adrian awoke, it was a little too early to get up, but a little too late to go back to sleep. He lay on his back, wondering again who the girl was and what he’d done to her. Nothing in his life came close to matching the dream. His only experience with boats was in the army, when his unit took part in an amphibious exercise (he got seasick). While he’d had girlfriends over the years, those relationships had ended without drama, usually due to mutual lack of interest. Adrian was baffled, but since lying there wasn’t going to clarify anything, he got up and went to work.

Adrian arrived at work ahead of schedule. He had about half an hour of peace in his office, reading through the overnights, savoring a cup of good Valenwood coffee, before he was interrupted, or more accurately, startled.

“Adrian, son! Good to see you so early!” Leaning through Adrian’s door was Oskar Martinsson, the general manager: tall, round, with thick, curly brown hair and a full beard – If affability could be packaged for sale, it would look like him. “All ready for our big trip?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, sir,” said Adrian, as cheerfully as he could manage.

“Wonderful! My children speak of nothing else these days. If I go on even half the rides they want to take me on, you’ll have to find a new general manager!” He chuckled. “Listen, I’m really looking forward to this. You’re doing a great job here; everybody is. We’ve had a lot to work through, and everybody’s risen to the challenge. This trip is my way to let you know how much I appreciate you all.”

“I’m sure we’re all grateful for that,” Adrian said. “Everybody seems to enjoy working here.”

“Good to hear,” Herr Martinsson said. “Anyway, train tickets and festival passes will be passed out sometime today, so just make sure you get yours.” And with that, the big man turned and went down the hall. The general manager’s avuncularity was a little hard to take sometimes, but, Adrian thought, it was impossible to dislike the man.

He couldn’t say the same for his next visitor, close on the heels of the general manager. Hendrikson, the inland shipping manager, was a small, skinny type with slicked-back blond hair. He didn’t merely lean in the doorway; he marched straight to Adrian’s desk. “What did the Big Man have to say this morning?” Hendrikson asked suspiciously.

“Oh, he was just saying that he’s looking forward to the festival, and that our tickets would be passed out later today.”

“Is that all? We were thinking about driving down, but it’s so far, and our auto uses so much fuel.”

“I remember you mentioning that,” replied Adrian, who didn’t own an auto, a fact Hendrikson liked to bring up from time to time.

“So maybe we’ll take the train with everyone else,” said Hendrikson. “Say, did the Big Man happen to mention anything about promotions?” Adrian knew this was what Hendrikson was really fishing for. The general shipping manager position was open, and was responsible for both intercontinental and inland affairs. Both Adrian and Hendrikson were under consideration, and while Adrian didn’t much like Hendrikson, he had to admit he was competent.

“Not a thing,” said Adrian. “Not something I really want to ask. He might announce the promotions the last night of the festival. I can see him wanting to do it then, if you think about it. For dramatic impact.”

“I suppose we both shall have to wait until then. Well, I should be getting along. Lots to do today! Lots to do!” Hendrikson left Adrian’s office for his own.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, until late afternoon when a sudden downpour on the way to the tram stop caught Adrian in the open. He was thoroughly drenched when the tram arrived, and he was embarrassed to see his favorite tram driver’s shocked face as he paid. “You look like you just fell overboard,” she said, smiling. Adrian mumbled something about forgetting his umbrella.

### A Dream Coalesces

* * *

Adrian listened to the music again that night. Oddly, while the music was similar, Adrian didn’t feel as if he were being rocked from side to side. Instead, he felt a gentle, steady push, as if he were being urged forward. He knew better than to fight it.

The boy walked along the canal, heading home with his catch after an afternoon of fishing. It had been a clear spring day, warm, with just a hint of breeze. He was approaching the last canal signal box before his village when he heard loud voices ahead.

“Outsider!”

“Who invited the Dunmer to come here?”

“Yeah, who do you think you are, acting all high and mighty?”

“Just because you can read and write, you think you’re the queen or something? Well pardon me, Your Majesty!”

The boy knew who they were. If Bram and his bunch didn’t find trouble, they would happily manufacture their own. Bram’s bunch consisted of three other boys, all around his age. Their target was a girl whom the boy recognized as the boatman’s daughter. She and her family lived not far away, though they'd never spoken. The boys surrounded her, but so far they seemed satisfied with mere taunting.

The boy would make sure they got no further. He dropped his gear and stepped between Bram and the girl. “What’s the matter, Bram? Is she helping you with the big words?”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” sneered Bram. “Why would I want to waste my time on a half-breed freak like you?”

The boy touched one of his ears. “Oh, I was so hoping you’d notice. I’m touched, really.” He stepped closer, eye-to-eye with Bram. “Tell you what,” he said quietly, “one at a time, or all at once. It’s all the same to me.”

“You serious?” said Bram, his menace somewhat dissipated.

“How would you like to find out?”

The boy could almost see the wheels turning in Bram’s head as he considered. Finally, he waved his cohort over. “Let’s just go,” he said, and they did.

The girl had turned her back to him, her face in her hands. “Are you all right?” the boy asked helplessly. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t answer him. “Excuse me, miss…”

She turned. “I hate it! I hate everything about this place!” she yelled. The boy was taken aback, both by her anger and her beauty. Her coal-black hair fell past her shoulders, framing a dark oval face with a slightly pointed chin. Her lips, he noticed, were almost purple. While her eyes were red from crying, her deep blue irises struck him deeply; he’d seen only a few Dunmer in his life, but none at all like her.

“Everything?” the boy stammered.

Her rage softened a little as she looked at him. “I never wished to come here, you know,” she sniffed. “We lived well in Morrowind. My parents’ merchant fleet sailed all over the world.”

“You came a long way, then. Why?”

“My parents were Twin Lamp,” the girl said. “Abolitionists aren’t well-regarded there. When word got out, we made a hasty departure. My parents run the canal boat now, and do well by it, but we’re still Dunmer.” She paused – her anger had abated, leaving only depression. “I don’t know which is worse, being seen as a curiosity or as an invader.”

“Oh, most around here are decent folk, believe it or not,” the boy said. “But we’re unworldly. Of course, we have our troublemakers as well.”

“How do you manage it, then?” she asked, pointing at his ears. “You too are unlike the others.”

“Oh, yes,” the boy replied. “I’m not sure. I know I’m different. I’m adopted, for one, and part Bosmer, as you’ve noted. Little trouble comes my way, but I suppose I’ve made it known what I’m willing to tolerate.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“I also choose my friends carefully. People with wisdom. People with learning. Canal boat people,” he grinned.

The girl grinned back. “I’m pleased you’re so careful,” she said, “but are you too careful to tell me your name?”

The boy blushed. “I’m sorry! I’m called Lukas. And I’m very pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” said the girl. “My parents named me Larisa.”

“You’ve had some learning?” asked Lukas.

“Yes, I can read and write both in the common language and in the language of my homeland.”

“The Dunmer script in Morrowind? I’ve seen it before, and it’s beautiful, but could never understand its workings. Could you teach it to me?”

“I suppose I could try,” said Larisa, “but to write it properly you should learn to speak it as well. Are you willing?”

“I could never let an opportunity like this elude me!”

He almost forgot his fishing gear!


	2. Crises

### Rescues

* * *

Adrian didn’t have time to ponder the meaning of his latest dreams. When he arrived at work the next morning, the office was in chaos. During the night, a landship met with a serious accident on the Honrich Causeway west of Riften. Well before dawn, Hendrikson had chartered an autogyro to the crash site, to make sure the drivers were looked after and the wreckage handled properly. Adrian began his day taking over Hendrikson’s office duties, rerouting landship traffic around the crash and arranging leases of ordinary surface lorries to carry goods recovered from the accident. He’d laid the groundwork for most of this before the general manager feverishly asked him to, which earned him a hearty “Well done!” and a teeth-jarring slap on the back. By midday, the two landship drivers were released from the local hospital and Hendrikson arranged their transport home. During the afternoon, giant cranes lifted the damaged trailers from the right-of-way, while a giant tow truck pulled the wrecked tractor to Riften Yards. Hendrikson would have to stay near the crash site through the next day to meet with investigators, but by nightfall the crisis was over.

The long day left Adrian too drained to cook his supper at home that night, so he tried the corner kitchen that had just opened a block from his apartment. Not bad; he thought it deserved a repeat visit. He was startled to see his favorite tram driver walk in with a young girl as he was leaving. She gave him a familiar smile. “Do you live out here?” he asked.

“Oh, no,” she said, “just out here visiting my niece.” She nodded to a tiny, skinny Dunmer girl who grinned at him for a split second, then hid behind her aunt.

Oddly enough, Adrian experienced no vivid dreams for the next few nights. What dreams he had remained in his memory in fragments: things seen, said, and heard in no cohesive pattern. While he was sure he was dreaming of Lukas and Larisa, no specific narrative emerged. Somehow, he had the impression both Lukas and Larisa were contented, and that some time had passed. Beyond that, he had no concrete recollection. “Is this progress?” he asked Dr. Gustafson at the end of the week.

“I’m going to give you my annoying therapist reply,” said the Doctor. “What do you think?”

“How should I know? I don’t even know what these dreams are supposed to be about.”

“That itself may be significant,” said Dr. Gustafson. “Could it be that your unresolved dreams might have to do with some unresolved issue of your own?”

“Are you saying that if I figure out what these dreams mean, I might identify whatever it is that’s bothering me?” asked Adrian.

“I’m saying it’s possible, but it gives you something to think about, anyway. But for now, keep on listening to the music. You seem a little less fatigued, so maybe it’s working.”

Adrian had to admit it was working, at least a little. He’d slept fairly well past few nights, and felt better because of it. That night, though, the music didn’t lull him gently to sleep. His legs felt restless, as if he was running.

* * *

Lukas was weeding his mother’s vegetable garden when he heard the screams. They seemed to be coming from his right. The canal! Had someone fallen in? The canal was too deep to wade across, and while stairs were cut in certain places along the canal wall (to facilitate loading and unloading), they might be impossible for a non-swimmer to reach. He sprinted in the direction of the sound.

“Somebody help!”

“He can’t swim!”

As he approached the canal, Lukas recognized three of Bram’s bunch, pointing, panicking. “Who? Where?” he demanded. They pointed.

Bram was in the water, treading frantically, but losing ground. The walls of the canal were steep, and Bram could find no handhold. Lukas stepped out of his clogs and jumped in after him. Ducking under the surface, he emerged just behind Bram, then wrapped an elbow gently around his neck and towed him slowly downstream to the nearest stairs, where Bram’s mates were waiting to pull him up. Once on dry ground, Bram coughed and sputtered on his hands and knees, while Lukas did his best to wring out his own clothes.

“So, just how did you manage to get in there?” Lukas asked.

“Didn’t think it was so deep –“ Bram coughed up some dirty water, then tried to stand. Lukas helped him up. “Lukas, ah, thanks. I guess I’m in your debt now.”

One of Bram’s bunch handed Lukas his clogs. Lukas patted Bram on the shoulder. “Stay dry,” he said.

“He didn’t think it was so deep?” Larisa stifled a giggle. “Just how deep did he think it was?” Larisa and Lukas were sitting on the floor of the upper deck of a canal signal tower near Larisa’s home. The tower was a narrow, two-storied structure; the upper floor was used to communicate with oncoming canal boats, while the lower floor was used for storage, including feed and water for oxen pulling the boats. That afternoon, with no boats expected, the upper floor gave them some privacy.

“It’s impossible to know what Bram is thinking,” said Lukas. “There seems little point in even trying.”

“Perhaps,” said Larisa. “But maybe we should speak of something else.” She switched to Dunmeris. “Did you remember to write out that poem?”

“Indeed,” replied Lukas in the same tongue. He unrolled a leather scroll. “Here it is, although I had to scratch a lot of it out.”

“You learn quickly,” said Larisa, leaning over his efforts. “Well done.” Lukas blushed at the complement. “But I have to ask, why do you want to learn all this? Is there a purpose?”

“Does there have to be?” replied Lukas. “I’ve always liked learning. Reading, working arithmetic, all those things. Some of it is useful, even for a blacksmith’s son.”

“But there must be something. Dunmeris is not a simple language. Isn’t there just a tiny dream? Something that keeps you from abandoning your efforts?”

“Oh, I see what you mean.” Lukas paused. “Well, maybe it’s this way. My father is very good at what he does. Iron, steel, bronze, all metals obey his commands. Myself? I try, but possess so little skill that my father has taken on an apprentice. Meanwhile, I use my own skills. I write my father’s letters, figure his accounts, things of that nature.”

Larisa continued probing, “But isn’t there anything more?”

“More?” Lukas answered. “For me? What more do I have a right to ask for?”

“I’m not talking about what you feel right asking for! What would you actually like to do?”

Lukas was reluctant to answer. “Well, you did ask, but please don’t laugh at me.”

“Of course I won’t.”

“Well,” Lukas continued, “I’ve always thought I’d like to be a scholar.”

“A scholar!”

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I’m not laughing,” said Larisa, slightly indignantly. “I think it’s a beautiful idea.”

“It would be,” sighed Lukas, “if there were a place for a blacksmith’s son at one of the schools.”

“It’s a beautiful idea regardless, and you shouldn’t abandon it. Meanwhile –“ Larisa produced an elaborately decorated scroll. “Here is an old love poem for Mister Scholar to translate. As I’ve told you before, in Dunmeris, the way words are presented is as important as the words themselves. Tell me what you think.”

Lukas studied both the words and their placement. The poem itself was a sad one, describing a woman’s longing for her lover, who had gone away, or had died. The poem never stated it explicitly, and it probably was not important. The arrangement of the words gave Lukas the vague impression of hands cast heavenward, as if in supplication. Beyond the hands, Lukas recognized the words for “devotion,” “eternity,” and “comfort,” each by itself. “What do these words represent?” he asked.

Larisa kissed him. “That,” she said. 

“But there’s three of them.”

“Very well, that and that, Mister Scholar.” She kissed him twice more.

“Oh, you mean that…and that…and that!” He kissed her.

Larisa giggled.

### Heartbreaks

* * *

“Has everyone got their tickets?” Herr Martinsson, the General Manager bellowed. Finally, it was the day of the big company trip to the Nereverine Festival. On the station platform, SK Intercontinental employees fumbled at purses or pockets, while spouses searched for people they knew, young children chased each other, and their older siblings sulked. “Great! Now, we’re doing this thing right – leave your suitcases with Hulde. She’ll make sure they all get to the hotel without you having to lug them around.” Hulde was the office manager, and she could organize anything. Adrian dragged his suitcase to where Hulde was standing; she attached a tag to its handle and checked Adrian’s name off a list. For his part, Adrian located a refreshments kiosk and got himself an early morning coffee to drink while the train was assembled. Adrian had to admit, the company was onto its game. Hulde had managed to book an entire carriage, just for SK Intercontinental, which would take them in reasonable comfort to Windhamn. From there, they had a whole block of seats on the ferry to Seyda Neen, so they could all sit together.

Adrian watched his colleagues and their families on the platform. Some of them he recognized: Herr Martinsson's plump, smiling wife and their teenage daughters, both with long, straight red hair. He spied Hendrikson’s wife Myra trying to herd a rambunctious eight-year-old son while their ten-year-old daughter stood by, scolding him. Others were more of a blur. The clerk from down the hall – who was she with? Did the head of Accounting really have all those kids?

When they finally boarded and Adrian found his seat, he realized how out of place he felt. Thirty years old, and he still lived by himself. Outside of the office, he seldom heard his name called. He could go through an entire weekend without speaking even once. On the other hand, he had more than his share of peace and quiet, which was interrupted by Hendrikson sitting down beside him.

“I thought I should thank you,” Hendrikson said quietly. Adrian noticed the rest of Hendrikson’s family sitting a few rows forward.

“Thank me? Why?”

“Well, you really pulled me out of a fire last week, after that landship crashed. How you managed that traffic was brilliant.”

“Oh,” said Adrian. “You know the system I used? I merely asked myself ‘What would Hendrikson do?’ and I did that.” Adrian paused briefly. “We’re a team, you know. Somebody had to go down south to supervise the cleanup. Somebody else, me, had to manage things at Solitude. I was glad to do it.”

“You’re too kind,” said Hendrikson. “If the Big Man asked me today who should be promoted, I’d say you without hesitation.”

“I appreciate it,” said Adrian, “but you’ve got a pretty good claim on the promotion, too. Have you talked with your family about it?”

“Some,” said Hendrikson. “Myra’s not crazy about moving to Vitbäck, but we’ve agreed that if we do move, it’s best to do it while the kids are still young.”

“That makes sense,” agreed Adrian.

A juvenile tumult erupted a few rows ahead, interrupting their conversation. “I’d better go see to this,” sighed Hendrikson, leaving Adrian alone once again.

Adrian tried to doze as the train rolled on, trees and mountains flashing by his window. Through half-closed eyes, the passing scenery reminded him of someone running, full sprint, with important news.

* * *

Lukas couldn’t wait to tell Larisa what had happened. All his studies, all his practice, all his recited poems, were actually going to amount to something. Larisa would be so thrilled. When Larisa’s home by the canal came into view, he noticed one of the family’s boats was docked close by. “Larisa!” he yelled. “Larisa!”

He saw Larisa’s head pop up from beneath the gunwale near the bow. “I’m up here,” she cried back. “Come aboard before the boatmen arrive!” Lukas scampered up the gangplank, then ducked his head and entered a small hold at the bow. The hold was roofed over with a lattice-like grate to admit air and light. Here, they were invisible to anyone on the boatmen’s platform further aft. Larisa was already inside, seated on a bench against the starboard bulkhead. “You’re all out of breath,” she said. “What made you run so fast?”

“Excited,” panted Lukas. “Wanted to see you.”

“I’m excited to see you too,” said Larisa, “Look at my new dress. Mother sewed it for me. I told her I wanted something nice to wear when you came around.”

“Your mother, she knows about us?”

“She probably knows more than I think she does,” said Larisa. “And she knows enough not to tell everything to Father.” Larisa giggled. “Doesn’t your mother know?”

“Well, she knows I’ve been coming down here, and she knows I’ve been studying Dunmeris with you. But she winks when I tell her where I’m going.” Lukas didn’t think his mother was a fool. As his eyes adjusted to the light, Lukas finally noticed Larisa’s new dress, blue with gold piping, and an embroidered collar. “What’s that stitching on your collar?” he asked.

“Come and look,” she said. Lukas moved in close to inspect Larisa’s collar. It was a simple ploy, and Lukas knew it. Larisa kissed him soundly. Lukas kissed her back again. Both heard the arrival of the boatmen toward the stern. “We’re making a short run downstream, to pick up a pair of oxen and drop off some fabric. We won’t be gone long.” The boatmen polled the small vessel along. The oxen would be used to pull the boat home.

They sat quietly for a while, the boat gently rocking back and forth as it approached their destination. Despite his excitement, Lukas found himself soothed by the ride. “So,” said Larisa, “what were you so excited about?”

“Oh, yes,” replied Lukas. “I have some big news! Remember I said my mother knew how you were teaching me? Apparently, she mentioned that to the constable, who told somebody else and so on, and last night the head scribe from the Citadel visited our house. He spoke to me in Dunmeris, and thought enough of my replies to ask me to come work with him at the Citadel. Two schillings every day I’m there, and two schillings for my parents every day I’m gone! Isn’t that wonderful?”

Larisa’s eyes went wide. “You’re leaving?”

“Tommorow,” said Lukas. “Only I have to walk, about two day’s journey, I think.”

Larisa’s eyes became glossy and wet. “You’re leaving,” she said, her voice aquiver.

The boat lurched slightly. A soft thump indicated they’d arrived at their stop, and footsteps told Lukas the boatmen had disembarked. “Such an opportunity,” said Lukas, as it dawned on him that Larisa did not share his joy.

Larisa curled up on her bench, drew up her knees, and buried her face in her hands. “I wanted more time,” she sniffed, as the tears began. “For the first time, there was somebody I was glad to see, excited to learn with.” She tried to say more, but ran out of breath.

“But Larisa,” he said. “I’ll still be able to –“

“You say that now,” sobbed Larisa. “But you and I both know. You’re never coming back.”

“Larisa!”

“Just go, Mister Scholar!”

He wanted to hold her, but he feared she would bat his arms away. He wanted to say something, but the words weren’t there. All he could manage was her name

“Larisa!”

_"Larisa!"_

There was nothing more he could say. He couldn’t bear to ride back on the boat. The walk home was a long one, long enough for him to realize how much Larisa had given him, long enough for him to realize how selfish he’d been, and long enough for him to realize that, having obligated himself, he couldn’t go back on his word. The next morning, after a somber farewell to his parents, he departed for the Citadel.

And just as she predicted, he never saw Larisa again.


	3. Awakenings

### On the Ferry to Seyda Neen

Upon waking, it took Adrian a moment to realize he was still on the train. His coworkers and their families were stirring, while a voice over the P.A. system announced their imminent arrival at the Windhamn ferry terminal. He must have slept nearly the whole trip. If only he felt rested. That poor Lukas who lived in his dreams – why was it so important to drag himself off to the Citadel, whatever that was, and leave that poor girl alone like that? How odd it was, to see the drama unfold through someone else’s eyes, yet only as a spectator! Still, Adrian felt the story hadn’t ended yet. People made choices, broke each other’s hearts; it happened all the time. Why was this dream-story any different? There must be more to come.

Adrian rubbed his eyes and tried to stretch as the train slowed and stopped. Grabbing his shoulder bag, he was among the last off the coach. Hulde the office manager stood by the coach door, announcing that they would board the ferry in exactly one hour. That left plenty of time to walk around and stretch his legs, so Adrian set out in search of a café. He took the stairs from the train platform, and out into a broad plaza, mostly concrete and brick, with trees here and there surrounded by concrete benches. About five minutes away at a slow walk was the ferry, wallowing at its pier. To the left and right of the pier were buildings housing merchants and restaurants. Crowds were accumulating in both directions. Adrian headed left, more or less at random.

About halfway to the shops, Adrian was interrupted by a voice addressing him. “Hey!” Adrian turned to his right, and spotted his favorite tram driver. He almost didn’t recognize her without her uniform!

“Well, hello! This is a surprise,” Adrian said. “Are you headed to Seyda Neen too?”

“Absolutely!” she replied. “Vvardenfell’s the land of my ancestors, after all, though I’ve never actually been there.”

“You picked a good time to go,” said Adrian, “with the Nerevarine Festival and all. Did you come down here alone?”

“I did. I wanted to take my niece, but she couldn’t go. I have an aunt and uncle in Vivec City. I’m supposed to go see them at some point.”

“Good having family out there,” said Adrian, who couldn’t think of a better reply. “Say, I’m trying to find a cup of coffee. Do you want one as well?”

“Sure.” She pointed. “I think the café is over there.”

“Oh, by the way,” said Adrian. “I’ve only been on your tram for months and months now, so I really ought to introduce myself. I’m Adrian Lindström.”

“And I’m Teri Ayalu,” she said. Adrian was pleased by her firm handshake.

They found the café, and even managed to get a small table near a window to themselves. They each ordered coffee, Teri asking for a sweet roll as well. They watched the people, singly, as families, as tour groups, making their way to the ferry terminal. “So you rode down here on the train?” Adrian asked. “I didn’t see you this morning.”

“I was in one of the cars at the very end,” she replied.

“I’ll bet it feels good just to ride, huh?” Adrian instantly regretted saying this, as she’d doubtless heard it many times.

“Oh, I like driving the tram. But I really needed a vacation. I was starting to feel awfully run-down, and nobody needs an exhausted tram driver.”

“I’ve been feeling it myself,” said Adrian. “Trouble sleeping.”

“Me too. And what’s worse,” Teri paused, as if she were decided whether to continue, “I keep getting these awful, depressing dreams.”

At that moment, they heard the deep drone of the ferry’s horn. It was time to leave. Adrian quickly paid, and the two of them headed for the boarding area. Adrian’s seat was with his colleagues on the top deck, first class with comfortable reclining seats. “It looks like my seat’s somewhere towards the stern,” said Teri.

“Would you like to meet up again on board?” asked Adrian.

Teri smiled. “Sure. I’d like that.”

### A Long Ride

The ferry trip ran through the afternoon and into the night, taking them from Windhamn, through the Inner Sea, and finally to Seyda Neen. Once again, Adrian thought, the General Manager was trying to do the company trip right, at least in his own way. Certainly it would have been quicker (and arguably cheaper) to have flown into Balmora and taken a bus down to Seyda Neen. But for a visit to the Festival to be most meaningful, one was supposed to duplicate the Neravarine’s sea voyage, and step onto the same dock as the Neravarine did so many centuries ago. After that, you could view the exhibits, visit the historic buildings, or play at the carnival.

Adrian and Teri wound up meeting for supper at the ferry’s café, one deck below the space Hulde had arranged for SK Intercontinental. Adrian ordered roast rabbit with potatoes, while Teri had a very pungent lamb stew over rice. Neither had eaten much that day, so neither said much as they tucked into their meals.

Adrian noticed his colleagues gradually filing into the café. Myra Hendrikson saw him at the table with Teri, and gave him a discreet wink and a smile. Teri didn’t see him smile back. “So,” he said. “Awful, depressing dreams?”

“What?” It took Teri a moment to remember. “Oh, that! Yes, as I was saying, it’s been tough, lately. Most nights I’ll have this awful dream. It feels like it takes place a long time ago. I’m just sitting there, absolutely crushed, because I’d lost something I thought I’d had. It’s hard to define exactly, but I’m almost afraid to sleep now.”

Adrian knew exactly what she meant, and explained why. “It is a remarkable coincidence, isn’t it? We’re both here, having come from the same place, on our way to the same place, for essentially the same reason.”

“I don’t believe in destiny,” Teri said. “I haven’t believed in it since I was a girl. But something like this? It’s enough to make me, well, wonder.”

They talked far into the evening. At some point, Adrian spotted Herr Martinsson and his wife Maddi strolling past the café. Apparently, the general manager’s wife spotted them, as she elbowed her husband and pointed. Finally, both had to admit they were very tired, and after promising to meet again when they debarked, they returned to their seats.

Adrian dozed in his recliner on the top deck, but his sleep was far from peaceful. Fleeting visions, like memories from centuries past, whirled about him.

_Here he was, working in the Citadel under the Head Scribe’s watchful tutelage._

_Here he was, trying to compose a letter for Larisa, and missing her terribly._

_Here he was, overhearing words not meant for him, confiding in his mentor about an unfolding conspiracy._

_Here he was, trying to shake the Head Scribe awake, finding blood on his hands, finding himself accused of murdering the Head Scribe, the Duke, and his family._

_And here he was, saved from execution by the Emperor himself, but condemned to exile._

### Landfall!

The ferry reached Seyda Neen about two hours after sunrise. Adrian waited for Teri at the gangplank, and they walked toward the historic Seyda Neen dock together, Adrian toting his shoulder bag and politely pulling Teri’s small suitcase behind them. A large banner reading “Nerevarine Festival: Where the Magic Begins” spanned the dock like a gateway. As the crossed the wooden planks, he noticed Hendrikson’s children jostling one another. Their father grabbed both by the arm, and gave them a good scolding. Adrian had just heard the words “… and let’s keep this as civil as possible,” when he suddenly became very dizzy. He was beginning to stumble when he felt Teri’s hand grab his arm. “You okay?”

Adrian recovered. “Sure. I just felt weird. I’ve never been here, but somehow it felt really, really familiar.”

Teri smiled. “I don’t know why, but for some reason, it doesn’t really surprise me.”

They paused by the reconstructed Imperial Census and Excise Office (now used by the Tourist Board) to stock up on brochures and pamphlets before heading on to the hotel district. Once again, Hulde had outdone herself – she’d reserved an entire floor of the Morrowind Empire Hotel for SK Intercontinental. Adrian almost didn’t want to ask Teri where she was staying, afraid they’d be across town from each other. “I’m here, too!” she said. “I reserved one of their smaller rooms, but I don’t need all that much.”

After resting up in their rooms, Teri and Adrian met for lunch, then strolled around town. Adrian wore dark trousers and a collarless long-sleeve shirt, open at the neck. Teri had put on a pretty white summer dress and a straw hat. They strolled through the historic area, viewed costumes and artifacts from the Neravarine era, visited the wildlife exhibit, and did some shopping. Teri bought an authentic netch leather wallet for her niece, while Adrian found a set of picture frames that would work nicely in his office. Adrian spotted a number of his coworkers that afternoon. Myra Hendrikson flashed him another knowing smile, but other than that, he paid his colleagues little mind.

Later, they returned to the Morrowind Empire for a brief rest prior to the company dinner that evening at a restaurant near the carnival. At the front desk, Adrian found a message waiting for him: Herr Martinsson wanted to see him half an hour before the dinner was scheduled. _This has to be about the promotion_ , he thought. What an opportunity: a significant pay raise, more responsibility, and more recognition, in one of the most desirable cities in the province. Was it really going to be his?

“Is something the matter?” Teri asked as he folded up the message and put it in his pocket.

“Boss wants to see me before dinner. Can we leave a little early?”

It was late afternoon when they arrived at the restaurant, which was located right at the edge of the carnival grounds. They would be dining al fresco; long tables were set up outside to accommodate SK Intercontinental employees, families, and guests. The general manager was waiting outside the entrance, wearing a sport coat and a blue and white striped shirt open at the collar. “Adrian, son! I’m glad you got my message. And who is this?” Adrian introduced Teri.

“Oh, wait,” Herr Martinsson said. “I think I remember you. Didn’t your father sit on the city transportation board?”

“He did, some years ago,” answered Teri. “Did you know him?”

“Know him? We were practically joined at the hip for a while! You were pretty small, but I remember being at your house once or twice when he was running the tram service!”

“Well, he’s retired from the city trams, but I’ve been driving for a few years now.”

“Like father, like daughter!” Herr Martinsson laughed. Turning to Adrian: “There’s something I needed to talk to you about.” Adrian turned to Teri to excuse himself, but Herr Martinsson interrupted. “There’s no need to speak privately. This is good news! As you know, SK Intercontinental has been looking for a general shipping manager over in the Vitbäck office. The search has come down to only two people, both of them in our branch, and both of them equally qualified. Company headquarters asked me to decide, which amounted, more or less, to me flipping a coin. I’d like to offer the position to you.”

Despite knowing his chances for promotion were pretty fair, Adrian was a little stunned. He’d worked hard, and he knew his efforts were appreciated. But to get this offer, well, that was really flattering! He turned to Teri, ready to tell her how excited he was, but was stopped short by Teri’s sad smile.

He needed more time. Teri needed more time. Together, they needed more time. Suddenly, he realized what his dreams meant. Whether they came from inside his mind or somewhere else wasn’t even important. Adrian was surprised how easy it was to reply.

“Herr Martinsson, rest assured I’m very grateful, but I really don’t want to leave Solitude.”

“Are you serious, Adrian?” the general manager asked. “Do you understand what kind of opportunity this is?”

Adrian took Teri’s hand and squeezed. She squeezed back. “I do understand. But there are other opportunities I don’t want to pass up.”

“Well, if you mean it…”

“I do. And thank you for offering. I mean that, too.”

“Then it’s settled! I will let Hendrikson know the promotion is his, and make the announcement at dinner!” Herr Martinsson bent closer to Adrian, saying softly, “Honestly, I don’t blame you. I’d have done the same thing.” After shaking hands with Teri and delivering Adrian another teeth-jarring backslap, the general manager strode off.

Adrian turned back to Teri; she took his hand again. They stood there a moment, looking at each other, grinning a little foolishly. Finally, Teri hugged him close. Looking up, she said, “I think I figured out was those dreams of mine meant.”

“Me too,” said Adrian. “It looks like the magic really does begin here.” Teri kissed him, and he felt months of worry and fatigue floating away, a load he’d become so used to, he’d forgotten he was carrying it. He made a mental note to mention it to Doctor Gustafson. Well, not all of it, naturally.

At dinner that evening, Hendrikson humbly accepted the promotion, and thanked everyone for their support, singling Adrian out for his help during the recent crisis. After dinner, everyone adjourned to the carnival, which the younger children had been fidgeting for, almost to the point of forgoing dessert (well, almost). Adrian accompanied Hendrikson’s young son on the Giant Wheel, while Teri chatted with Myra Hendriks and Maddi Martinsson. When they returned from the ride, Adrian and Teri walked off by themselves to watch the lights and dream. They were interrupted by a young voice yelling “Smile!” The general manager’s daughters got a nice shot of the two of them, and they kept a copy for a long time.

Adrian and Teri married a year later at the Lady Chapel in Solitude’s historic district. Adrian could barely keep from crying when he saw his bride striding slowly up the aisle, her niece supporting the train of her gown. He saw Hendrikson in the front pew giving him a discreet thumbs-up, while Myra beamed like daybreak. He felt like Nirn’s luckiest man. Nobody disagreed, least of all Herr Martinsson, who cried through the whole ceremony (but danced like a kangaroo at the reception)! Over the years, Adrian would reflect on how much impact one’s choices had on so many lives, and how important it was to listen to those little voices that could see you through to places you never even knew about. He and Teri made sure their children and grandchildren thought about it, too.

* * *

**A note about the illustrations:** The pictures of Teri and Adrian were created using screenshots taken while playing [The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim,](https://elderscrolls.bethesda.net/en/skyrim) plus stock photos. The following user mods were used to create the characters:

  * Teri’s hair style is from [ApachiiSkyHair](https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrim/mods/10168/) by Apachii
  * Teri was created and stylized using [RaceMenu](https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrim/mods/29624/) by Expired
  * Adrian was built using RaceMenu, based on the Lovergirl race, which doesn’t appear to be available as of this writing, but was hosted at [Skyrim Nexus](https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrim)
  * Adrian and Teri’s outfits (including Teri’s wedding dress) come from [Apachii’s Divine Elegance Store](https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrim/mods/81073).
  * Adrian’s wedding suit is actually the [Butler Uniform](https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrim/mods/11986/?tab=description) by Novamonk.
  * Poses were accomplished using [Pretty Motion Collection](https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrim/mods/28978) by Dualsun



The copyrighted photos are from my personal collection, but I also used a selection of stock photos from a terrific site called [Pexels](https://www.pexels.com/), where you can find stock photos of just about everything. Be sure to give them a look! The following shots came from Pexels:

  * The ferry deck was taken by [Burak Kebapci](https://www.pexels.com/photo/white-building-beside-body-of-water-930030/)
  * The ferry at sea was created by [Arefin Shamsul](https://www.pexels.com/photo/white-ship-traveling-through-vast-body-of-water-with-white-birds-flying-beside-879479/)
  * The Giant Wheel photo comes from [Karol D](https://www.pexels.com/photo/time-lapse-photography-of-blue-lighted-ferries-wheel-908494/)
  * The merry-go-round (which I used as a background for Adrian and Teri) was created by [dr jelibon](https://www.pexels.com/photo/photo-of-carnival-horse-carousel-at-night-723165/)



Manipulating the pictures: The screenshots and photos were edited or manipulated using [Paint.Net](https://www.getpaint.net/), and the [Gnu Image Manipulation Program (GIMP).](https://www.gimp.org/) To superimpose Teri and Adrian over the merry-go-round photo, I first made screenshots of each in the [Green Screen Chroma Key Room](https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrim/mods/11814) by mgbeach. Using GIMP, I made the backgrounds transparent and pasted the pictures into the stock photo. I claim no expertise in this process and won’t explain it in detail here; I just searched for instructions on the ‘Net and did whatever they said. Doubtless someone with real skill could do a much better job!


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